all previous disclaimers *still* apply.
Stained Ch. 10
Perfect by regret
The beat, the movement, the energy…
Everything's sped up.
As if we're all just pieces…
Pieces of something *bigger*…
Something that's wound itself too tightly…
Spinning us off our axis.
I wonder if he'd be there to catch me if I fell…
Wonder if he's falling too…
Something about the way he looked at me…
Something about the way he touched me…
Something about the way he's moving against me…
It screams of forever and passion and joy.
Screams of permanence and want and please.
I wonder if he hears me screaming back.
Wonder if he can sense my fear and hesitancy.
Wonder if he can understand it…
He obviously sense's it, even if he can't understand it, because he's shaking his head.
Eyes willing me to stay present, stay focused.
…on him…
Him and Him and Him.
The riot of color and sound and shape that swirls about us is quickly forgotten, blocked out, as his hands begin to move against me again.
Calming my worries as they feed my desire.
Christ, if I get any harder I'll break!
His eyes gleam mischievously as he brushes against me, again…
Sweetly, softly…
Teasing and torture.
No one's ever made me feel as he does.
Not ever…
Not even…
…Harry…
I can't help my shudder, the way my stomach flops and my heart plummets.
He looks up at me, hands stilling, a desperate question flaring in his bottomless eyes.
He'll leave me.
In the end.
Just like Harry did.
He'll leave me.
In the end.
Even if he doesn't mean to, now.
He will…
And it hurts more than it should.
That and the realization that I don't want him to both.
His face has fallen; he's pulling away now.
Hands leaving me,
Face turning away,
And GOD how I don't want him to go!
I reach out and catch his hands, tugging him, gently, back to me.
His eyes hold the question of why as my hands tremble, his face wary.
I didn't mean to make him doubt, to turn away…
But I've rejected him once already.
I didn't mean to here.
I was too caught up with his rejection of me.
A rejection I hope never comes…
I smile, a little, and say, "Just touch me. And don't leave me, not tonight."
If I found him beautiful before, there is no word to describe what he is when he smiles.
Even if it was a slightly sad smile of understanding.
A surprisingly soft smile of acceptance.
I wonder what he looks like when he comes…
My breath catches as his hands skim over my hips, drawing me close.
His body is perfect against mine…
Perfect size.
Perfect shape.
Perfect height.
Perfect.
Perfect.
Perfect…
He's looking up and me, and there's wonder in his eyes.
Does he feel it too?
His tongue darts out to lick at his lips, a soft shade of crushed berry-pink, and I can't help but stare.
And think of a million and one uses for that mouth of his.
Not the least of which being a desire to hear my name slip from it as I take him, slowly, eyes shuddering shut, face slack…
Shit…
He really is amazing.
His eyes are a helpless plea as I lower my head, eyes never leaving his mouth.
He wants this as badly as I do, his body tense and waiting, wishing and hoping.
I brush my lips against his and husk out his name, unused to my dominant position.
"Blaise."
He whimpers lightly, pressing back against me, body crying out for more.
I give it to him without thinking.
I've come home.